The palace gates had never seen this many people.
They filled the courtyards, spilled into the streets beyond, and pressed against the outer walls in a tide of color and noise that refused to be contained. Flowers actual flowers, not just petals were being thrown into the air, carried in baskets, woven into garlands, draped over railings and shoulders.
Aria stood just inside the entrance, staring at it all with the quiet horror of someone who had expected, at most, a polite thank-you.
"This… is not rest," she muttered under her breath.
A maid beside her beamed. "It is a celebration, my lady. The people insisted."
Of course they did.
Because apparently saving thousands of lives did not earn you sleep. It earned you a parade.
A literal parade.
